


Hallowed Be Thy Name

by InfiniteBreath



Series: Hallowed Be Thy Name [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Coming of Age, Gen, Mirror Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 20:18:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16070543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteBreath/pseuds/InfiniteBreath
Summary: Leonard McCoy unearths his gift and takes his place in the McCoy bloodline.





	Hallowed Be Thy Name

**Author's Note:**

> I've had the idea for this series in my head for several years now, but never put pen to paper, so to speak. I will be working on this series slowly, as I have too many WIPs to finish.
> 
> Warning: Not beta read.

A loud scream rushed through the McCoy Manor and slapped Leonard awake. He bolted upright in bed and pulled out his silver dagger from beneath his pillow, absentmindedly running his thumb across the intricate dragon body engraved on the hilt. He scanned his bedroom with a calculating gaze and made sure to penetrate the darkest corner with extra care. The closet door was secure, as was the main door to his room – the extra bolts were still in place. The cry had come from somewhere else within the house, close enough that the echo had reached his room with ease.

Leonard steeled his nerves and forced his body to move. A break-in during the night could only mean two things: arrest, or an assassination attempt. Either option had his father in the proverbial crosshairs. This chilling thought had him scrambling out of bed before fear had a chance to take root in his gut. Leonard glided over toward the door and pressed himself against the wall. He could hear his pulse pounding staccato in his veins, and he forced himself to take a deep breath. Any rescue attempt would be useless if he couldn’t keep his nerves in check.

Another shrill cry raced through the house, and the sharpness of it scraped painfully across Leonard’s ears. The scream didn’t sound like it belonged to his father, but he couldn’t trust his senses. He’d heard grown men cry out like newborn babies when thrashing about the floor in pain. The only way Leonard was going to get any answers was if he went to go investigate.

He turned the brass knob and cracked open the door. The hinges, which Leonard kept well oiled, displayed their loyalty by not making a sound. He peeked through the slim opening and noted that all was clear on the far side of the hallway. The corridor was quiet, but Leonard could feel the echo of a strange energy thrumming from the opposite side, the one area where he couldn’t see. Something was definitely wrong in his home, and whatever had happened had played out in his father’s study.

Leonard tightened his grip on the handle of his knife and took in a deep breath. If the Empire had decided to imprison, or eliminate, his father, then he and his mother were next in line. The bloodline of a family always paid the price for the sins of a transgressor. Anyone who dared to defy the Empire sentenced his or her whole family to death.

If someone had broken in to try and assassinate David Mccoy for the sake of revenge, there was a good possibility that Leonard and his mother were also next in line – enemies didn’t usually leave loose ends that might lead to their eventual demise. Either way, Leonard had an obligation to see to his mother’s safety, as well as his own. But first, he had to assess the situation and check on his father.

This mindset was what set the McCoy clan apart from others in the Empire – integrity was something that was instilled within all members of the family from birth. It was a mark that had kept the darkness which polluted the rest of the population from infecting the sharp minds of the McCoy bloodline. McCoys were groomed to respect death and value life.

True strength and power came from dominating with one’s own hands, not from employing subterfuge and callous acts. What worth could a person truly have if he or she had to lie and cheat in order to accomplish anything in life? Leonard knew he came from good stock, and his job as his father’s son was to preserve the bloodline – by any means necessary. Even if it meant that he had to jump in front of an attack. His father was still fairly young and could sire more children.

Leonard knew that if he died tonight, David McCoy would honor his memory by relating tales of his sacrifice to his future children. Though he was only seven years old, Leonard would be remembered as a hero. It was this thought that inspired him to take the first step out into the hallway.

He could see that the heavy, wooden door of his father’s study was open partway. The room was filled with a soft light that could only come from burning candles, and Leonard could see the body of a man lying prone on the floor near the doorway. He immediately knew that it wasn’t his father, and the tension that had built up in his muscles bled away and dissolved into the void. He checked his surroundings once more before making the trek into his father’s study. The tangy aroma of copper hung in the air like an invisible curtain, a telltale sign that blood had been spilled.

Leonard inched his way to the room, keeping his knife at the ready. The eerie silence in the hallway was broken by the sound of a soft groan, which Leonard hoped belonged to his father. He rushed the few steps separating him from the doorway and jumped over the stilled body as he charged into the room. Leonard landed on the tiled floor in a crouched attack stance, his dagger glinting dangerously in the candlelight.

He started as a bout of laughter rumbled from the back corner of the room. Leonard sidestepped around his father’s oak desk until he had a clear line of sight, releasing a shuddering breath as caught sight of his father’s face. David McCoy’s skin was pale and stained with flecks of bright red blood that set Leonard’s nerves on edge, but the old man was wearing a prideful expression that refused to be ignored.

Leonard ran over to his father’s side and noted the way David’s hands were pressed tight into his abdomen area. Small rivulets of blood were slowly crawling out from beneath his fingers, stretching across the white, cotton fabric of his father’s shirt. A rush of adrenaline swept through Leonard’s system, rattling his bones and forcing open every pore on his skin. Sweat pooled within the bow of his top lip, and Leonard licked it away as he dropped to his knees, setting his dagger on the cold floor.

“Who did this, dad?” he rasped.

“Some fangless viper lookin’ for aid to off his boss,” David wheezed. “He thought he could force my hand by threatenin’ my family.” He offered Leonard a bloody grin. “The poor sumbitch wasn’t expectin’ me to bite back for even darin’ – an’ I got poison in my fangs, Lenny. Now be a good boy and fetch my bag.”

Leonard hurried over and pulled his father’s medkit from the bottom drawer of his desk. “Where’s mama?”

“Secure in the bedroom. I already commed her to let her know it was safe to come out when she’s ready. If I’m lucky, she’ll keep her ass in there ‘til I’m done. I don’t have time to deal with her bein’ squeamish with blood.”

“What do you need?”

“Took an old fashioned bullet to the gut – this wound is going to take some crafty handiwork on my part, son. I’m gonna need you to hold the mirror tucked in my bag while I work.”

“ _What_?”

“Now’s not the time for theatrics, Leonard,” David snapped, his bloody fingers digging into the sides of the wound. “I need you to heed me, boy.”

Leonard ducked his head. “Yes, sir.” He rifled through his father’s kit and pulled out a large, square mirror encased in a silver frame.  He held it outward, facing his father, and willed his body to stop trembling.

“Still those hands, son!” David barked, jerking Leonard’s focus into attention. A soft groan pushed its way past the older man’s lips, jarring the line of sweat hanging on the coarse, black hairs of his thick mustache.

“All right now,” David inhaled. “Get some gloves on. I need you to get the scissors and cut the buttons from my shirt. After that, you need to sterilize the wound and the surroundin’ area.”

Leonard swallowed back a wave of hot bile and steeled his nerves. He turned his gaze downward, and his eyes locked onto the growing bloodstain on his dad’s shirt. The sight of the sticky liquid pushed at something deep inside of him, a sense of calm he only felt when he was alone in his room leafing through his dad’s medical books. He felt the tranquility move through his system, soothing his rattled nerves before slotting itself in the center of his heart.

He slipped his hands into a pair of oversized, latex gloves and locked eyes with his father. “Hold still, dad. I’m gonna take care of you.”

“Hurry up now,” David snapped. His gruff voice was strained from pain, but his brown eyes were alight with pride. “Fetch me a scalpel and the forceps when you’re done.”

“Yes, sir,”

It took an hour to fetch the bullet from David McCoy’s gut and stitch up his wound. Leonard had taken over after twenty minutes, right before David had nearly blacked out from the pain. The scuffle with the intruder had caused the gunshot to go wild, and the bullet had found a resting place near a lovehandle instead of his chest.

Leonard tied off the last stitch - following his father’s instructions to the letter - and sat back on his heels. The blue gloves covering his hands were slick with blood, and he found himself wondered at the fact that he’d managed to get anything done right – he’d had to pull the loose latex down his fingers every time he moved his hands.

“You did good, son,” David croaked. He sagged against his wall and eyed Leonard with an appraising gaze. “You’re a McCoy through and through – ain’t nothin’ gonna take you down when you finally take on the world, Lenny.”

Pride burned in Leonard’s heart, and he offered his father a tight smile as he slipped his hands out of the gloves and picked up his dagger. “I’m gonna check on mama.”

“Yeah, go on now, boy. I’m gonna sit here for a while. I’ll holler if I need your help getting’ up. We’ll clean up later.”

 Leonard paused near the doorway. “What are we gonna do with the body?”

“Don’t you worry ‘bout that. I got a guy I can call.”

The walk to his parent’s room felt long, but the energy buzzing in Leonard’s veins kept him company. He caught sight of his reflection in the window adjacent to the door of the master bedroom. There was a jagged streak of blood running from the rip of his left eyebrow to the right corner of his mouth, and for a moment, the world stopped. Leonard stood outside of time and space, a place void of all sound and feeling. He stared at his face, recalled the power he’d wielded in his hands while helping his father, and knew that he had marked his place in the world. Suddenly, the meaning of his family’s motto became clear.  

“McCoys are forged from death and nurtured by blood,” he whispered, reaching out to touch his image in the glass. He exhaled and turned his focus back on the bedroom door.

“I’m finally here, mama,” Leonard softly called out, his voice pushing back against the darkness of the hour. He reached out and turned a doorknob that led to the unknown for a second time that night; only this time, there was no fear plaguing his heart.


End file.
